Jesus on the mount
begot loaves and fishes
I'm blest to be fed
on pescatarian dishes
species so beloved
yellow perch and brook trout
once graced our tables
now all but fished out
floating fish factory
forced austerity
sad contradiction to
our "land of plenty"
more than mere food these
beasties provided we
round grandma's table
haute gastronomy
Friday night dinners
white box with string ties
from local fish joint
with coleslaw and fries
chatting as we ate
in her cozy kitchen
no TV interrupted
weighty discussion
such as what kings held
I said sepulcher
that's a grave, gram gravely said
he carries a scepter
(Grampa didn't weigh in because he probably didn't know himself.)
she was right of course
but wouldn't admit mistake
said I was 9 at 10!
now that took the cake!
Sometimes grampa grilled
rainbow trout outside
grama didn't want it
stinking up inside
Alaskan sockeye salmon
reigned with halibut
hooligan in it's own oil
don't knock till you try it
Louisiana catfish
fried in lemon butter
or as court bouillon
too yummy to utter
No matter what we ate
I always loved best
fish picnic suppers
like those the Lord blessed
sad to think our kids
seldom fish do see
what teemed the lakes
swam into history
So I pen a verse
of thanks to these beasts
for sharing themselves as
transmogrified feasts
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